The "Slop Workers" of London. (1850)

I was led, by the gentleman whose advice I
had sought, to a narrow court, the entrance
to which was blocked up by stalls of fresh
herrings. We had to pass sideways between
the baskets with our coat tails under our
arms. At the end of the passage we entered
a dirty looking house by a side entrance.
Though it was noonday, the staircase was so
dark that we were forced to grope our way
by the wall up the first floor. Here, in a
small dark room, about eight feet square,
we found no fewer than seven workmen,
with their coats and shoes off, seated cross
legged on the floor, busy stitching the
different parts of different garments. The
floor was strewn with sleeve-boards, irons,
and snips of various coloured cloths. In one
corner of the room was a turn-up bedstead,
with the washed-out chintz curtains drawn
partly in front of it. Across a line which
ran from one side of the apartment to the
other, were hung the coats, jackets, and
cravats of the workmen. Inside the rusty
grate was a hat, and on one of the hobs
rested a pair of old cloth boots; whilst
leaning against the bars in front there stood
a sackfull of cuttings.

Besides the work
men on the floor, sat two good-looking girls
one cross-legged like the men engaged in
tailoring.
My companion having acquainted the
workmen with the object of my visit, they
one and all expressed themselves ready to
answer any questions that might be put to
them. They made dress and frock coats,
they told me, Chesterfields, fishing coats,
paletots, Buller's monkey jackets, beavers,
shooting coats, trousers, vests, sacks,
Codringtons, Trinity cloaks, and coats, and
indeed every other kind of woollen garments.
They worked for the ready-made houses, or
"slopsellers." "One of us," said they, "gets
work from the warehouse, and gives it out
to others. The houses pay different prices.
Dress coats from 5s. 6d. to 6s. 6d.; frock
coats the same; shooting coats from 2s. 6d.
to 2s. 9d. In summer time, when trade
is busy, they pay 3s.; Chesterfields from 2s.
6d. to 3s. some are made for 2s.; paletots
from 2s. 6d. to 3s." "Aye, and two days
work for any man," cried one of the tailors
with a withered leg, "and buy his own
trimmings; white and black cotton, gimp
and pipeclay."

"Yes" exclaimed another,
"and we have to buy wadding for dress
coats;· and soon, I suppose, we shall have to
buy?.cloth and all together." Trousers
from Is. 6d. to 3s.; waistcoats from ls. 6d.
to Is. 9d. Dress and frock coats will take
two days and a half to make each, calcula
ting the day from six in the morning to
seven at night; but three days is the regu
lar time. Shooting coats will take two
days; Chesterfields take the same time as
dress and frock coats; pal tots two days;
trousers one day.
"The master here" (said one of them
scarcely distinguishable from the rest)" gets
work from the warehouse at the before
mentioned price, paying us when he receives
the money. We are never seen at the shop.
Out of the prices the master here deducts 4s.
per week per head for our cup of tea or
coffee in the morning, and tea in the evening, and our bed. We sleep two in a bed
here, and some of us three. In most places
the workmen eat, drink, and sleep in one
room; as many as ever the room will con
tain. They'd put twenty in one room if
they could."

"I should like to see the
paper this'll be printed in," cried the man
with the withered leg. " Oh, it'll be a
good job, it should be known. We should
be glad if the whole world heard it, so that
the people should know our situation. I've
worked very hard this week, as hard as any
man. I've worked from seven in the morning till eleven at night, and my earnings will
be 13s. this week; and deducting my 4s.
out of that and my trimmings besides-the
trimmings comes to about Is. 9d. per week
which makes 5s. 9d. altogether, and that
will leave me 7s. 3d. for my earnings all the
week, Sunday included. It's very seldom
we have a Sunday walking out. We're obliged to work on Sunday all the same. We
should lose out shop if we didn't. Eight
shillings is the average wages take the year
all through. Out of this 8s. we have to
deduct expenses of lodging, trimming, wash
ing, and light, which comes to 5s. 9d. We
can't get a coat to our backs."

I inquired as to the earnings of the others.
" Well, it's nearly just the same, take one
with the other, all the year round. We
work all about the same hours-all the lot
of us. The wages are lower than they were
this time twelvemonth, 1848-that they are
by far, and heavier work too. I think there's
a fall of sixpence in each job at the lowest
calculation."
"Ah, there it is," said another; "a 3s.
job we don't have 2s. 6d. for now."'
" Yes, it's causing half of the people,"
cried a third, to be thieves and robbers.
That's true. Wages were higher in 1847,
they're coming down every year. The
coats that they used to pay 5s. for this time
two years, they are making for 3s. 6d. at
present-the very same work, but a deal
heavier than it was two years ago.

This
time twelve month we made coats for 7s.; and
5s. this year is all we can have for the same.
Prices have come down more than a quarter
-indeed about half, during these last ten
years. I'm sure I don't know what's the
cause of it. The master first says, I can't
give no more than such a price for making
such an article. Then the man objects to
it, and says he can't live by it; as soon as
he objects to it, the master will give him no
more work. We really are the prey of the
master, and cannot help ourselves. Whatever
he offers we are obliged to accept, or else go
starve." "Yes, yes," said they all, "that's
the real fact. And if we don't take his
offer, somebody else will, that's the truth,
for we have no power to stand out against
it. The workhouse won't have us-we
must either go thieve or take the price in
the long run. There's a standing price in
the regular trade, but not in this. The regular trade is sixpence an hour. The regulars only work from six in the morning
till seven at night, and only do bespoke
work.

But we are working for the slop
shops or warehouses, and they keep a large
stock of ready-made goods. We're called
under-the-bed workers, or workers for the
sweaters. All the persons who work for
wholesale houses are sweaters. Single
workmen cannot get work from them, be
cause they cannot give security--£5 in
money, or a shopkeeper must be responsible
for that amount. Those who cannot give
security are obliged to work for sweaters.
The reason for the warehouses requiring
this security is, because they pay so badly
for the work they are afraid to trust the
journeymen with it. But in the regular
trade, such as the West-end, they require
no security whatever. In the slop-trade
the journeymen do not keep Monday, they
can't do it-Sunday nor Monday either-if
they do they must want for food. Since
we've been working at slop-trade we find our
selves far worse off than when we were work
ing at the regular trade. The journeymen
of the slop-trade are unable to earn 13s.
where the regular journeymen can earn 30s.
and then we have to find our own trimming
and candle light.

I'd sooner be transported
than at this work. Why, then, at least, I'd
have regular hours for work and for sleep;
but now I'm harder worked and worse fed
than a cab-horse."
During my stay in this quarter, an incident occurred which may be cited as illustrative of the poverty of the class of slop
workers. This friend who had conducted
me to the spot, and who knew the workmen
well, had long been striving to induce one
of the men, a Dutchman, to marry one of the
females working with him in the room, and
with whom he had been living many months.
That the man might raise no objection on
score of poverty, my friend requested me to
bear with him half the expense of publishing
the banns.

To this I readily consented but
the man still urged that he was unable to
wed the girl just yet. On inquiring the
reason, we were taken outside the door by
the Dutchman, and there told that he had
been forced to pawn his coat for 6s. and as
yet he had saved only half the amount tow
ards the redemption of it. It would take
him upwards of a month to lay by the re
mainder. This was literally the fact; and
the poor fellow said, with a shrug of his
shoulders, he could not go to be married in
his shirt sleeves. He was told to make him
self easy about the wedding garment, and
our kind-hearted friend left delighted with
the day's work.

Morning Chronicle Articles on "Labour and the Poor."

Notes

"Slop Working" as described above, was destroying the tailoring trade and was one of the reasons that William Cuffay joined the union and took part in the London tailors strike.